


(we go down) with the rest of it

by maxaroni



Category: Markiplier TV (Web Series), The Last of Us (Video Games), Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), mark - Fandom - Fandom
Genre: Amy Nelson - Freeform, Badass Ethan Nestor, Bloaters (The Last of Us), Character Death, Chica - Freeform, Clickers (The Last Of Us), CrankGameplays - Freeform, Crossover, Cute Chica Fischbach, Enemies to Lovers, Ethan Nestor - Freeform, Ethan Nestor Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, I promise, Kathryn Knutsen - Freeform, M/M, Mark Fischbach - Freeform, Mark Fischbach Needs a Hug, Markiplier - Freeform, Minor Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson, Not A Fix-It, Runners (The Last of Us), Sad Ending, Slow Burn, TLOU, The Last of Us Spoilers, don't read the tags they give away too much, pretend the year shift doesn't exist i guess lol, theyre the ages they are IRL, time shift for ages sake, you don't have to have played TLOU to read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxaroni/pseuds/maxaroni
Summary: Nearly thirty years into a man-eating-pandemic-ridden world, Ethan Nestor finds himself to be the second person in history with immunity to the devastating fungal virus.
Relationships: Crankiplier, Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	(we go down) with the rest of it

**Author's Note:**

> [ DISCLAIMER: I do not support forcing ships onto REAL PEOPLE. I support Mark and Ethan and their respective relationships and wishes wholeheartedly. This is purely a work of fiction for your enjoyment purposes. ]
> 
> SO, with that out of the way, please enjoy! I promise I'll try not to abandon this fic. LEAVE COMMENTS PLS, THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY.

Ethan mindlessly nudges at the cysts that have formed around the area that was once an open wound.

Beads of sweat gloss trail down his forehead and cheek and he leans his head against the window of the military jeep.

It’s humid in Southern California, the air is moist and clings to him and the temperature outside draws a seemingly endless supply of sweat. His eyes search for a moment, moving from the dirty window to what he can see of the shaky windshield and accidentally meeting the eyes of his driver, only to awkwardly and quickly look away.

“If you let me out here, I’ll just get myself there,” he says, sass reeling in his tone. “I won’t tell anyone you let me out.” His eyes move to the mirror again and the woman frowns at him, blonde hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. “What? I’ll say I snuck away when you went to go pee or something, I’m not stupid despite what all of you seem to-“

“Ethan, would you calm down?” Her tone is exhausted, probably of listening to his complaining. “They’re not having me transfer you to the location because they don’t trust you.” They make eye contact again but very briefly and Ethan’s shoulders moving signify his silent scoff. “I got to you just fine, I’ll get there just f-“

“You got to us. Four days after you were bitten. So no, technically, it wasn’t just fine.” The vehicle slows to turn, then they’re picking up speed again. They're on the main road now. “It’s dangerous. It’s dangerous,” she repeats, Ethan’s assuming for emphasis, “and you’re important.” She pauses again for a few seconds, eyes leaving the mirror to look at the road with furrowed eyebrows. “Besides, it’s across the country, not down the road.”

Ethan looks at her silently, not through the mirror, with a blank expression before he plops his book bag against the opposite door and moves to lay down with his bag as a pillow, despite a lonesome pin stabbing into him a little. He ignores it. “It can’t be as dangerous as your driving.” Not that the speed signs matter in the reason of the law in a forever lawless land, but it’s probably dangerous to be going as fast as she is and they don't need to attract unnecessary attention to themselves.

“Oh, whatever, I’m only going-,“ There’s a pause, a mumbled ‘shit’, Ethan feels the vehicle slow a little against the brakes. He smirks and closes his eyes to fall asleep.

-

He’s been fiddling with the zipper of his book bag since Amy left this morning. She'd hugged him and told him she can't wait to see him again. He misses her already, kind of regrets the grief he gave her in the car. He hopes she knows he was only half-kidding.

It’s nighttime now, a dark blue Ethan can’t stop admiring filling the entire sky (which he can’t believe looks so BIG out here). The warm hues of the lantern next to him cascade the small living room of an abandoned house with yellow light. It’s silent other than the rain outside until the door of the hotel room swings open.

“I heard you tried to bribe Amy into letting you run off,” Kathryn says with a smile playing on her face. “You should’ve known that wouldn’t work.”

“It was worth a try,” Ethan huffs out, turning to look back out the window again. They probably won’t leave till morning anyway, so he makes no effort to get up. “I’m capable, obviously.”

“You got bit,” Kathryn says, plopping down at the opposite end of the couch he’s sat on. “You being immune doesn’t exactly mean you’re capable.” Ethan wants to scoff, but he doesn’t.

“Having one other person with me - a stranger - is going to ensure my safety though, right?” He's probably lucky that Kathryn is used to his sarcasm.

“If that bite had been differently landed, you could’ve bled out. Nobody is trying to insult your capability.” There’s a long pause, a silence filled with the pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows and Ethan feels a bit guilty for giving her a hard time. He decides changing the subject would be easier than apologizing, so he leans his head back on the worn cushion as he turns to look at her.

“How was getting here? Any issues?” Kathryn shakes her head and pulls two cans out of her bag. One's peaches and one's green beans. She gives the peaches to Ethan without a word about them and he pulls out his knife.

“Nope, haven’t really been many issues lately,” she pops open her own can and pours some into her mouth, spilling some juice and making Ethan chuckle as he shoves a peach slice into his own mouth. “The whole Isaac situation really, uh,” Kathryn takes a deep breath through her nose and lets it out slowly, “the entire group really mellowed out, I think. The intentions changed I guess. Went from kill anyone that isn’t with us to attempt to recruit and refuge. Almost like the fireflies were so many years ago.”

“Do you regret leaving?” Ethan asks after a second, eyes shifting from the peach to her then back to the peach on his knife. He sees her shake her head out of the corner of his eye.

“I would if I was the only one,” her eyes shift over to Ethan and she hints at a smile, “Amy really makes the situation more bearable.” He grins at her. “Besides, enough time has passed for me to not really care.”

“A couple weeks?”

“I adapt quickly,” she smiles over at him and they go silent again. Ethan finishes his peaches, throws the can somewhere across the room and they both giggle like children at it, then Ethan shifts to lay down, his head on her lap. She’s finished her green beans and she’s toying at Ethan’s greasy hair.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Ethan says, voice almost in a whisper.

“I’ll meet you over there,” she lays her hand on his head and smiles down at him. “It’s safer this way.”

“I still don’t get it. Seems dumb to do it the same way twice when the first time went so badly.”

“They don’t intend on it going the same way. People like you are rare, apparently.” Ethan can see the scarring on his arm from the position he’s resting in. He doesn’t say anything. Kathryn speaks again anyways. “He’ll be here in a few hours, we’ll have to leave to meet him soon. Sleep till then.” Ethan barely nods but she notices it anyways and only at the sound of the word sleep does Ethan notice how tired he is. He lets his eyelids fall.

-

The air is wet and puddles of rainwater litter the ground, but it’s not raining anymore.

At least, it wasn’t – until ten minutes ago. It started pouring down rain out of absolutely nowhere so now they’re sneaking through the city in avoidance of WLF soldiers, drenched and cold. “We’re almost there,” Kathryn reassures while they’re walking through Ruston’s Coffee, and Ethan nods. She’s not lying. Ten minutes later, they’re in an old apartment building, second from the top floor.

Kathryn knocks at the door in a pattern, two knocks - two knocks - three knocks.

Nobody answers for a few minutes. Kathryn starts to try the knock again, she gets to the second two before they hear footsteps.

“I’m coming, I’m comin-“ The door swings open. Ethan meets the man's eyes before Kathryn does. Something in him feels insanely weird like the planet has shifted beneath his feet. It’s a moment that feels years-long, their eyes searching each other’s and Ethan feels incredibly warm despite the freezing rainwater he's drenched in, and yet the moment ends so quickly. The man shuffles out of the way and they enter. He seems to have felt it too, judging by the awkward look on his face. Maybe he's just taken aback by the soaking stranger standing at his doorstep. Ethan assumes it's that.

“Good to see you,” Kathryn says and Ethan hears the man close the door behind them.

“This is my cargo?”

“Mark, this is Ethan. Ethan, Mark.” Ethan holds out his hand to shake and Mark just looks at him and Ethan swears he’s never felt more awkward in his life.

God, why did he embarrass himself like that? He lets his hand fall back to his side and he narrows his eyes at the man.

“Show me it,” the man says, and Ethan instantly searches for Kathryn’s eyes for approval. She nods.

“The last time someone like you had to be transported, they tried to keep it a secret from the smuggler, and that caused an issue before anything else, apparently." Despite this, Ethan still hesitates, furrowing his brows at her. "You can show him," she assures once more.

Ethan pushes up his sleeve and holds his arm out to him, and Mark takes a five-second long look at it and raises his eyebrows in what looks like slight intrigue. “How infected?”

Ethan narrows his eyes in confusion, a little bit agitated for some reason. "It's _not_ , _I'm_ _no_ -"

"The infected that bit you, not the bite." Mark's annoyingly calm but Ethan can see the judge-filled look Mark shoots at him for his confusion. Now he's embarrassed _again_.

"Oh," He shifts uncomfortably, the skin under Mark's hand getting clammy, "clicker."

“How did you get it off you?”

“My dad was there,” Ethan’s voice goes a bit softer now. He doesn’t want to go into detail. Please don’t ask more questions.

Thankfully, Mark doesn't. He drops his arm and goes to look out the window. Ethan sends a nervous glance in Kathryn's directions and she makes an inhaling motion to tell Ethan to breathe. He wants to roll his eyes, but it's just the anxiety making him irritable. He tries a deep breath and it helps a little.

Kathryn and Mark are saying something, but Ethan's observing his surroundings and has toned his ears out. Mark's apartment is tidy and high up. The building obviously doesn't have power, and some of the windows are boarded, but there are a few candles sitting around. There's a couch and a coffee table littered with books, some of them with titles containing engineering, two blankets that are hanging off the couch, and a book on the floor. He must've just woken up from there. The kitchen is separated from the living room by an island, tidy and three sections of the counter are littered with tools, rags, oil, and a taken apart gun.

"-An? You listening, bud?" Suddenly Kathryn is waving her hand in front of his face and Ethan jumps a little. "You alright?"

"Yeah, sorry," He replies and blinks a few times, taking a step back. 

"I gotta go now, Amy is waiting outside." Ethan feels his heart start to swell and his eyes burn a little. Lifting his arms and taking a small step forward, he pulls Kathryn into a hug and she rubs a circle into his back. "It's gonna be okay. We'll see you in D.C., okay?"

"Promise?"

"You should know better than to-"

"Just this one time. It'll make me feel better." She smiles at Ethan sadly as she pulls away and brings a hand up to stroke his cheek.

"I promise."

Ethan nods and leans into the touch. Then, he lowers his voice to a whisper, unsure of Mark's hearing distance or where he's even at right now anyways. "Mark is," Ethan pauses and then practically makes a question mark through the look in his eyes.

"He's a good buddy of mine and Amy's. You'll warm up to him, I think." Ethan raises his eyebrows and smiles a little (a way of saying 'uhh, you sure?'), and Kathryn giggles. "Well, if you don't, everybody loves you. So, it'll either be him or you." There's a small moment of silence and then Kathryn backs up to grab her bag. "I'll see you soon, Eef."

Ethan nods as anxiety knots in his stomach and tries not to cry when he watches her close the door.

-

"Uh," Mark pokes his head in the bedroom, a strand of his neck-length dark brown hair falling in front of his glasses, "have you eaten?"

Ethan's sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, leaning against his bookbag and holding his sketchbook in his hands. He lifts his head to look at Mark. "A can of peaches last night."

Mark just nods and leaves the room, not closing the door. After a few minutes, Ethan can smell food. Warm food that makes his mouth water. He stands, back popping and making him groan and nervously walks to the door, squeezing through the crack as not to make it squeak. He feather-walks to the living room and Mark is leaning on the island, two cans over a sort-of tabletop fire thingy. Ethan hugs himself and walks closer. Mark notices him only when the floor squeaks beneath his toes and it makes the man jump a little to see Ethan suddenly standing there. 

Ethan fights back a laugh. "What's that?"

"Tabletop campfire," Mark says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He guesses it kinda _is_ self-explanatory, so Ethan just nods once. "Beanie weenies, in the cans. If that's what you meant." Ethan doesn't know why, but he feels like this guy's entire goal is to make Ethan feel as awkward as possible. He just nods once again.

He's just so _monotone._ Ethan doesn't think he could have emotion even if he _tried._ "Where'd you land those?" 

"Traded some runaway ex-WLF some ammo," he plays at a little smirk and his eyes meet Ethan's for the smallest second, then they're back on the small fire under the cans. "Are you?" Ethan raises an eyebrow. "Ex-WLF? Amy and Kat didn't tell me much-"

"It shouldn't matter to you, all you're doing is getting me over there." Walls, walls, walls. It's all he's ever known. 

Mark doesn't seem phased by his attitude, he just scoffs a little. He pours some water over the fire, bringing it sizzling to a halt, and uses a rag to hand Ethan a hot can of beans and a fork as he takes his own, walking around Ethan silently and going into what he assumes is the other bedroom.

"We leave in the morning," He hears the door close now and Ethan's left standing in the candlelit living room, feeling lonely and cold, but warmer than he was after coming out of the rain, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> [ DISCLAIMER: I do not support forcing ships onto REAL PEOPLE. I support Mark and Ethan and their respective relationships and wishes wholeheartedly. This is purely a work of fiction for your enjoyment purposes. ]
> 
> LEAVE COMMENTS PLS, THEY MAKE ME SO HAPPY.


End file.
